


A Party and a Poem

by steinsresonance (themidnightbagel)



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, SoMa- Established Relationship, tsustar - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 20:36:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themidnightbagel/pseuds/steinsresonance
Summary: Black Star and Tsubaki have been best friends for years, as close as anyone can be.  However, one night, one poem, and one party, could change everything.





	A Party and a Poem

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This is my first time posting a fic so bear with me but College AU's are a classic, so why not. I genuinely thought this would be a quick 1k word at the most oneshot, then things kept happening and it turned into almost 8k, and thus here we are.

Tsubaki hasn’t even been here for twenty minutes and her ears are already ringing.  She was told this would be “low-key”, but obviously Soul’s definition and her definition are two very different things.  She still can’t believe she even agreed to come tonight.  Last Thursday, when she was out to dinner with Maka, both of their phones buzzed—an invitation from Soul to a “low-key, chill, just a couple friends hanging around” party some of his many various and unnamed friends were hosting this weekend.  For being a musical preformance major, Soul had connections from all walks of life on DWMA’s campus, and you never knew what kind of crowd you’d be encountering when you met some of his “friends”.  Tonight, it seems, these are his more garden-variety, use for the free booze and a good time, friends.

“Feels” by Calvin Harris was blaring from some speaker in an indiscriminate corner, the air: acrid, a thin layer of sweat was already shining on her skin, and neither Maka, Black Star, Soul, or a combination of any of them, were currently anywhere to be seen.  She’s not totally surprised, she is thirty minutes late after all.  Maka had offered to head over together, but she knew that meant Soul would inevitably be dragged along, and she hated feeling like a third wheel with them.  Admittedly, Black Star had texted her asking if she wanted to hang at his place beforehand, but she claimed that she had some work she wanted to get done beforehand—which was true, in a sense.  It was work, writing a poem to be precise, just not the type of work that anyone would be seeing anytime soon, and especially not Black Star.

Poetry, and the act of writing, was one of Tsubaki’s biggest safe spaces, and although she poured her heart and soul into each and every one, she wasn’t usually shy about sharing them—usually being the key word.  Once it was written down, it felt like it didn’t belong to her anymore, it was a way to share her thoughts and feelings without explicitly saying, “I feel this way,” or “I think this”.  In all her years as a creative writing major however, there was one avenue she never traveled down, not from lack of want, but from lack of experience: love poetry.  Sure, she loved her friends, and loved her family, but she wasn’t _in love_ with any of them.  Maka would say different, she would say that Tsubaki _is_ in love with one of her friends, and that her type of love, the pining, “can’t admit to yourself that you’re head over heels in love with him so you just sit quietly and suffer” (Maka Albarn, cited from: every conversation the two have ever had) has some ripe for the pickings love poetry material in there.

Tsubaki vehemently denied these claims, balking at the merest suggestion that she’s been harboring uncultivated feelings, until last night, a little after midnight, Tsubaki had an intense burst of inspiration.  Attempting to sleep, she was running over some lines in her head, knowing that they’d make their way into a piece somehow, but the _how_ was the difficult part.  As much of her best thoughts are, this one was sporadic and seemingly out of nowhere, so in fear of it getting lost in the void by the time she woke up, she scribbled the lines down in one of her many, many, moleskin notebooks lying around.  Satisfied that something at least decent would come from it, she went to sleep.

Something decent definitely came from it, something more than decent, something maybe in the ranks of her best writing yet.  However, when she went to look at it the coming morning, she came to the realization that she had just written an achingly personal, and achingly true love poem about none other than Black Star, just the man who Maka insisted had been slowly carving a permanent spot in her heart for the past two years.  Writer Tsubaki knew this piece was too good to just throw away, and once it was fleshed out a bit more, edited a bit, and looked over, could be a real shining piece in her writing portfolio.  Human, Unsure, and Hesitant Tsubaki also knew that staring her in the face was the truth she had been denying: she was in love with Black Star, had been for a while even. 

A hand grabs her arm, startling her out of her reverie.  Looking up, she sees Maka regarding her with a smile, her pigtails looking extra perky, and signature scythe earrings swinging wildly.

“Hey, I was wondering when you’d finally show up!” Maka yells over the din of the room.  Surprisingly, Soul wasn’t glued to her side.  Usually they’re inseparable; “that” couple: sickeningly in love, and seemingly made for each other.  It didn’t help that Soul fancied himself a match-maker so when he introduced Tsubaki to his at-the-time new roommate Black Star, he predicted that “there’s no way this thing isn’t ending in heart eyes for someone”.  At the time, Tsubaki couldn’t have doubted him more.  Black Star was obnoxious, arrogant, and didn’t look like he’d ever even so much as picked up a book in his life.  Now, none of those have changed, but they come with a thin veneer, his true personality residing underneath.  Black Star was still obnoxious and arrogant, but not all the time.  Most of the time he it’s put on just for the persona, and in good natured fun.  She was right about one thing though: Black Star was not a reader, or a studier either, but he was always willing to try and read her poems, giving her feedback in the best way he could.

“Yeah, sorry about that, I was just working on a poem” she says sheepishly, an explanation she’d used far too often to excuse her lateness.

“Oooh, exciting, can I read it?” Maka asks, eyebrow raised in interest.  Although Black Star always read her poems without hesitation, he almost always unequivocally loved them.  While sweet, she needed actual critiques, and that’s where Maka came in, who was always ready to rip her work to shreds if need be.

“This really isn’t an environment conducive to a good reading experience is it?” she says, or yells, to accentuate her point.

Maka laughs, nods, and drags her through the throngs of people, upstairs where the volume level quickly dissipates.  They step into an empty room, and Maka settles into an office chair while Tsubaki sits down on a bed.  Maka scoots over to Tsubaki and holds out her hand, while Tsubaki begrudgingly digs into her purse and hands over her moleskin.

“Okay, what gives, you look nervous even though I’ve read literally every poem you’ve ever wrote,” Maka says, “does this one contain some secret you’ve been concealing for years or something like that?”

Tsubaki barks out a laugh at that one, Maka always knew exactly what was going on, even if she didn’t know she knew it.

“Listen, let me just preface this with the fact that I didn’t plan on writing this.  It just kind of came to me, and I didn’t realize it until I was done.  I still don’t really know what to do with it, so that’s where you come in.”

Maka raises an eyebrow in confusion, but reads on.  Tsubaki never was one for long poetry, so she finishes in only a minute or so.  She sees Maka’s eyes widen with each passing glance, and a slow smile starts to spread across her face as she nears the end.

Maka throws her head back and laughs, “You’re fucking in love with Black Star, and don’t even try and tell me this isn’t about him.” 

She clears her throat as she puts on an over-the-top voice to read a line, “‘The tattoo winks at me / eternal night immortalized on a man / with hair the color of day’? Let me think of all those blue haired guys with star tattoos that match your description. Ha! I love being right. Anyway, you totally have to show him this, he’s gonna die.”

Tsubaki recoils, “Are you kidding me? In what world?!  There’s no way that poem’s seeing the light of day ever again. I wrote it in a half-asleep daze anyway, I wasn’t really myself.”

Maka stares at her, and stares, and stares, an unsaid “I don’t believe a word you just said” written on her face.

She sighs, “Okay, you know what? Yes, you were right, I may be nurturing some feelings for Black Star but that doesn’t mean everybody needs to know!”

Maka rolls her eyes, about to argue, when Soul saunters in, sharp teeth glinting as he lazily smiles.  Everything about Soul was lazy, but not in a non-committal way, in an almost too practiced way, like the world was his stage and he’d done this performance time and time again.  No surprises, and no hiccups.  Meanwhile Tsubaki felt like her whole world was made of glass and with every step she would shatter it.

He spins Maka around and gives her a quick peck.

“Hey babe, what’re you doing up here, c’mon let’s go down and dance,” he says, trying to pull her up and away, then glancing at Tsubaki, “oh hey, I didn’t know if you were coming tonight.  Black Star’s around here somewhere, I think last I saw he was out on the porch playing beer pong.” 

Even without saying it explicitly, Soul knew who she would eventually gravitate to.  Maka gives her a fake exasperated look, as much as she loved talking with Tsubaki, especially when it concerned her being right, she loved being with Soul even more, and Tsubaki didn’t mind.  She nods at her to go on, and with a quick hand off of her notebook, she’s gone, and Tsubaki is left alone once more.  There was no reason why she shouldn’t go find Black Star, it’s not like suddenly everything would be different now that this…realization had come to light.

Stuffing her notebook deep down into her purse, with any impending thoughts attached going down with it, she hesitantly braves the storm of people downstairs again.  It isn’t before long that she hears a loud yell of “MOTHERFUCKER!” that she knows could have only come from one blue-haired boy.  Shouldering her way out onto the back porch, sure enough, Black Star was losing miserably at a game of beer pong.  He sees her and instantly brightens, tapping out with a muttered, “This shit’s rigged anyway”.  Tonight he’s sporting a black t-shirt and she can see his large star tattoo peeking out from the sleeve.  He’s had it for as long as she’s known him, as much a part of him as his messy teal hair, but tonight she notices herself sparing an extra glance at it.

“Tsu!! I’m so happy you’re finally here, everyone else at this damn party sucks” he says, lightly pulling her ponytail, and swinging an arm around her shoulders.

She immediately smiles, and all her reservations about being here melt away.  Black Star always managed to make her feel safe and at home no matter where she was as long as he was there.  It seemed counterproductive for someone as abrasive as Black Star to have such a calming effect on her, but where some would say he was too-much, and she was not-enough, they seemed to balance each other out.

Even though he has a beer in his hand, and obviously had been drinking a bit, he wasn’t too far gone, only a bit tipsy she would guess. 

She asks him how much he’d drank and he confirms, “This is only my second drink.  I didn’t want to be hammered already before I even got to see you. C’mon, let me make you something, they have some fruity shit in there that I know you’d love.”

This was a very on-brand Black Star “being sweet” moment, and he was right; she didn’t drink that much, but when she did, it had to be fruity or else she wouldn’t bite.  Meanwhile, Maka lived off seeing what jock would take one look at her small frame, challenge her to a drinking competition, and lose without even so much as a fighting chance, or a hope of waking up the next day without a deadly hangover.

She lets Black Star drag her into the kitchen where he pours a variety of syrups and liquors into a red cup, chatting all the while about anything and everything that had happened since the last time they talked, which was only a couple hours ago.  His concoction finished, he hands it over and she takes a sip, pleasantly surprised by how much she likes it.  She knows to take it slow since this is the only thing she plans on drinking tonight, but that first sip warrants a huge grin, making Black Star share one with her in response.

After some more idle, yet entertaining, chitchat, where in Black Star managed to down an entire cup of whatever brew he made for himself, he takes her drink from her hands, deposits it on the table next to them, and replaces the drink with his own hand, slowly edging them into the living room, into the throbbing horde of dancing people.  Grimacing, she shrinks back, and Black Star pouts.

“Dance with me? Please? Pretty please? For me?” he asks, clearly blurring the line between tipsy and drunk now.

She rolls her eyes in good-natured annoyance—drunk Black Star = needy Black Star.  Parties were his scene, not hers, and she knows that she’s holding him back at least a little bit, and she tells him as much.

“What?! Please, a party without you isn’t a party I ever want to be at.  We don’t have to dance for long, just indulge me tonight Tsu” he says, losing the pout, and with it, some of the silliness from the earlier request.  Even though she knows his mind is not fully in the right place, it feels like agreeing to “just dance” with him is actually something more than that.  Or, that might be the poem burning a hole in her purse talking.  Then, she locks eyes with Maka only a couple feet away, who, seeing where Black Star was pulling her, raises her fists in victory and motions for her to follow him. 

Sighing, she acquiesces “Fine, but you know I’m no dancer so no promises for how long I’ll last.”

Black Star throws his head back and laughs, “Oh sweetheart, trust me, I’m well aware, just humor me.”

Ah yes, once “sweetheart” came out, that’s when she knows she’s definitely treading in intoxicated Black Star territory.  Maka claimed that he would use it on her all the time if he could, but he just uses being drunk as an excuse to use it when he can.  Tsubaki, like usual, never believed her, but now, the pet name feels different, changed.

They saddle up next to Maka and Soul, Black Star giving Soul some sort of bro-nod as a greeting, and Maka giving Tsubaki a conspiratorial knowing glance.  With as many parties as Black Star, Soul and Maka have dragged her to, they’ve never gotten her to dance, she would dutifully shoo them away as she found a nice couch to sit on, meeting back up with them later.  Black Star would soon enough always ditch the dancing and come join her on the couch, even though she knew he’d much rather be in the midst of everything, causing some sort of ruckus.

“I have no idea what I’m doing! I feel ridiculous” she shouts to Black Star over her shoulder. 

He responds by wordlessly turning her around so she’s facing him, firmly placing his hands on her hips, and tugging her close, flush with his chest.  All her breath escapes her, and as she rests her arms atop his shoulders she’s more aware than she should be of how his muscles tighten beneath her, and how much that pleases her.  He looks at her and gives a small grin, seeming almost unsure of himself for the first time in his life.

She gives him an encouraging nod, and says, almost too quietly to hear over the music, “This is nice, I guess I can manage this.”

His eyes light up at that, his grip on her waist tightens, and he rubs a spot into her hipbone with his right thumb. With more sincerity than he should have been able to muster with his level of sobriety, or lack of, says “I’m glad.”

The more she danced, the more Black Star smiled, and the more her regret she had about coming to the party diminished.  Soul ended up breaking out some of his moves he learned in his dance class elective he was taking this semester, which of course led to Black Star challenging him to a dance off, even though he had never even so much as stepped foot inside a dance studio.  This theme, of Black Star entering into competitions he was duly unfit to compete in, and inevitably losing, continued throughout the night.  The more he lost, the more he drank, and before long he was well on his way to being truly wasted.  As a result of this, his inhibitions began to fly to the wayside, and before every round of whatever he was attempting to win, he’d pucker his lips and ask Tsubaki for a kiss.  As much as she would have wanted to oblige him, this was decidedly not where she wanted their first kiss to be, so she’d laugh and give him a peck on his cheek to appease him.  After losing a race to Maka which involved seeing who could shot-gun a beer the fastest, Tsubaki takes Black Star by the arm.

“Hey, don’t you think that’s enough for one night? I’d like you alive tomorrow morning please,” she says.

Giving her a wobbly grin he responds, “Oh really, is there anything else you’d like from me tomorrow morning?”

She obviously recognizes that this was his attempt to flirt, and flattered as she may be, she also recognizes that this was a very, very poor attempt to flirt.

She opens her mouth to tell him that when a guy she didn’t know stumbles through, completely spilling his drink on her in the process, soaking her shirt in sticky alcohol.  He quickly begins to apologize profusely, just as quickly as Black Star, enraged, puffs up and shouts, “What the FUCK is wrong with you dude?  Watch where you’re fucking going!”

As he moves forward, already beginning to ball his hands into fists, Tsubaki quickly takes his hands within her own and begins leading him out of the door, telling that guy not to worry about it, and telling Black Star, “No, stop, just shut up, it’s not a big deal, let’s just get you home.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t put up much of a fight, seemingly content just to be held by her as she keeps him upright on their walk back to his and Soul’s apartment.  He very quickly loses most of his steam, and becomes a quiet, far-from-sober lump, that manages to shuffle his feet as she leads him back home.  Halfway through the journey he even attempts to nuzzle his head into her shoulder, humming as he does it, which makes a bright flush travel up her neck, but she says nothing, and continues walking.

***

By the time they finally reach his apartment, he’s sobered up a bit, less completely wasted and more sloppily drunk.  He staggers in, immediately downing a whole bottle of water from the fridge.  Then, going to crash on the couch she waves him away, directing him to his bedroom down the hall.  Inside he speedily shucks his shirt and pants off, leaving him in just his boxers as he flops down onto his bed.  This isn’t the first time he’s undressed around her, understandably his body was not a detractor to his self-esteem, and as a physical education major, keeping himself fit was a priority.  His tattoo now on full display, Tsubaki can’t help but marvel at the way it molds itself to his arm, and the muscle underneath.  Black Star wasn’t the tallest of guys, but he didn’t try to make up for it in muscle and by making himself into a beef-cake.  He was built, but not to the point where it made him look scary. 

He cracks an eye open, and glances at her.

“God your shirt’s soaked thanks to that asshole, you gotta change out of that thing.”

It really is uncomfortable, and cold, and she can’t say cheap alcohol is her perfume of choice, but she didn’t bring a change of clothes, and wasn’t about to just strut around shirtless, as much as Black Star may have preferred that.

“Please don’t be difficult, I don’t want you to get a cold or some shit, just grab one of my t-shirts and change.  Don’t worry I won’t peek, I’m a good boy” he persists, throwing in a sloppy wink at the end.

Not even giving him the benefit of a response to that she roots around his very, very messy and unorganized closet until she finds a big t-shirt that she then slips into.

Black Star appraises her, and his lips lift into a satisfied grin, “It looks good on you, keep it.”

Her whole body warms at the compliment, and warms even further when the knowledge sets in that she is wearing a shirt that Black Star lived in, sweated in, slept in, did whatever the hell else he got himself into in.  His eyes droop closed and his face begins to grow slack, the fatigue of the night finally settling in.

She brings his covers up and over him, and goes to grab him another water bottle. Something catches her eye as she sets it down on his bedside table.  Perched on the table next to his lamp is a picture of the two of them, arms slung around one another and smiling into the camera, a picture taken by Soul the last time they had a “family game night”—aka Black Star and Soul invite Maka and Tsubaki over for dinner, a movie, and maybe a board game but usually it just ends in them comfortably hanging out until inevitably Black Star falls asleep on them.  Last time, he ended up knocking out with his head on Tsubaki’s lap as she carded her fingers through his hair.  As she turns around to leave, he mutters, “Stay with me. Until I fall asleep at least.” 

She obliges, hopping up next to him in bed, as he says, “Tsu, you always take such good care of me”, a smile gracing his face.

She snorts, “Well you’re not wrong.”

His smile shifts, and his brow furrows slightly, “You know, sometimes I think you take _too_ good care of me.  I don’t deserve you.  I’m so fucked up, and you’re the only one who knows.  You’re the only one who sits there as I talk about all the shit wrong in my life, and somehow always managing to make me feel okay.  And what do you get in return?  Shitty feedback on brilliant poems that I don’t even understand half the time.  I don’t fucking deserve you, Tsubaki.”

She knows he’s still under the influence and just talking out of his ass.  She knows that he has no filter when he’s like this.  But, she also knows that he’s not just making this up, that those words weren’t slurred in the slightest.  She knows that there’s some part of him that really feels like she doesn’t need him as much as he needs her.  And that makes her hurt. 

Sternly, she says—even if he won’t remember her saying it in the morning—“Black Star, stop that.  You know that’s just not true.  I’ll say this now and don’t forget it—you are an invaluable part of my life and I love you.”

They say “I love you” to each other all the time, because it’s true, she has no qualms about telling him this anytime he needs to hear it.  However, the unspoken finish to that sentence is “and I’m also _in_ love with you”, and she doesn’t know when, if ever, she’ll be able to tack that part on while he’s listening.

He relaxes a bit, and sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m stupid. I love you too, Tsu.”

Reaching down, she combs her fingers through his hair, encouraging him to finally get some sleep.  She stays playing with his hair, and rubbing circles into the small of his back once he flips over, until his breathing evens out, signaling his descent into sleep.

She moves to get up, but then spies her moleskin poking out of her bag sitting next to her.  Hesitantly, she pulls it out and thumbs to the poem that’s been plaguing her mind since she wrote it.  Reading it over once again, she can’t deny how brutally honest, and true it all is, every single word. Taking a moment to scrutinize Black Star’s features in order to ensure he really is asleep, she slowly reads the poem out loud, in hopes that it will provide some sort of catharsis.  However, no such release comes.  If anything, it makes the pain in her chest worse to stare at Black Star’s beautiful features as she gives form to the barest contents of herself.  She thinks she sees his lips twitch and she freezes, but when no other movements are to be detected, she convinces herself it was just a tic as he slept.

Letting out a big sigh—of what though, she could not be certain, relief, sadness, exhaustion?—she gathers her things and looks at the clock: 4 am blinks back at her.  This being much later than she thought, she checks her phone and sees she has a text from Maka saying her and Soul are going back to their—Tsubaki and Maka’s—place for the night, so she makes the executive decision to just sleep here.  Almost instantly Maka responds with “(-; have fun you dogs” making Tsubaki sigh again, except this was pointedly a sigh of exasperation.  Letting herself have a last fleeting glance at Black Star, she bends down to give him a feather light kiss on his forehead—she can self-indulge this much—and heads out to the couch in the living room. It has been A Night, and she is more than happy with the fact that right when her head hits the pillow, sleep is upon her.

***

“What the hell are you doing out here?” is what rudely jostles her out of sleep hours later.  She jolts awake to see Black Star towering over her, a scowl adorning his face, along with dark circles, hair pointing in every direction, and eyes that aren’t even fully open yet.  She glances at the time and sees it is only six in the morning, he must have gotten up to get more water.

“I’m sorry? It was just super late when you finally fell asleep and I didn’t want to head all the way home, especially since Maka and Soul were staying the night, so I decided to just crash out here…I can leave if you want though” she says, confused, as she goes to get up and leave.

Black Star pushes her back down, saying, “No you idiot, I’m not mad about you staying here I’m mad about you staying _here_ out on this old and uncomfortable couch all night.  Why didn’t you just sleep in my bed, I have a giant queen bed for fuck’s sake!”

She would be lying if she said the idea didn’t flit across her mind last night, but after reading her poem out loud, she felt too vulnerable to also subject herself to a night sleeping next to his warm body. 

She of course didn’t say this.  She of course only says, “Well, you were gross, sweaty, and smelled overbearingly like the cheap beer you’d been chugging all night.  Plus, I didn’t want to wake up to you puking all over me in the middle of the night when it all caught up to you.”

“Well, I’m still gross, but the sweat’s dried, and I think the smell’s gone at least a little bit, and to top it all off, you know how my hangovers go.  There’s a lot of bitching and complaining, but no puke.  You’re safe on that end, and you’re spending the rest of the night, uh morning I guess, in my bed,” he says, holding out his hand.

Seeing no room for argument she grasps it and follows him back, heart beginning to race just a bit.  They’d fallen asleep together before, after studying, or watching a movie, but they’d never made the conscious decision to go to bed and go to sleep together.  This romantic notion is knocked down a peg when she gets a whiff of him and sees that he definitely had embellished on the whole “the smell’s gone” bit.

They settle into his bed; it really is quite massive, and takes up most of his room. She attempts to stay a healthy distance away from him, but he takes to sprawling out on his stomach, taking up much more than half of the bed. 

Turning his head to face her, he says, “Hey Tsu? Remember how I said my hangovers include a lot of bitching?  They also include a lot of achiness and needing you to rub my back or else I won’t be able to fall asleep ever again.”

She looks at him, tired and exasperated.  Quieter then, he mutters, almost to himself, “Your touch just, I don’t know, calms me or something.  Makes me feel okay.”

She softens, and props herself up on one elbow in order to have a better angle.  The moment her hands touch his bare back, he relaxes and becomes pliant under her.  She watches his muscles shift and contract as her hands move over him, and he releases a content sigh.

“God, you really are just the best,” he says, voice growing low as his eyes flutter closed.

“I know.”

***

The next morning—or later that same morning—Tsubaki wakes up with a weight on her chest, literally.  Groggily she opens her eyes and attempts to move, but soon becomes aware that she really cannot.  In the night, Black Star had shifted so he was almost completely on top of her, head nestled into the crook of her neck, legs tangled together further down.  Her movements rouse him and she feels him smile against her neck, mumbling a slightly incoherent, “Mornin’”.

She is almost frozen, taking in the fact that they were _cuddling_ after literally sleeping together.  Black Star, clearly not bothered by this in the slightest, raises himself up a bit only to flop back down and look at her, before screwing his face up.

“Fuck, my mouth tastes like utter shit, and my head feels like it’s about to explode.  I really went off the rails last night, huh?”

How much did he even remember?  Why did he think they were waking up together?  Why did he _want_ to think they were waking up together?

“Uh yeah, you really went all out,” she lamely replies.

He pauses for a moment, then says, “Hey. Thanks for looking after me, last night, and just, God, fucking always.  There’s no way I’d have made it out of that party intact without you.  Also, I was serious about the shirt, don’t worry about getting it back to me, it really looks better on you anyway.”

He plucks at the collar of her shirt as he finishes, trying to lighten the mood again.  She simply nods and goes to untangle herself from him, making up some excuse as to why she needs to head out as soon as she can. 

He looks slightly disappointed, but quickly covers it up with a smirk and says, “I still smell pretty rancid huh? I guess a shower is in order.”

He gets up after her and she stops to take in how excruciatingly adorable he looks in that moment, yawning, still half-asleep, with his mussed hair looking like a turbulent sea, boxers hanging low.  She gives him a parting smile as she scurries out, passing Soul sitting at the kitchen table, grasping a mug of coffee like his life depends on it, looking equally as rough as Black Star.  He sees her running out of Black Star’s room, in Black Star’s shirt, and throws her a puzzled, yet interested, glance.

“Hey Tsubaki, what happened last night?”

She squeaks out a, “Oh hey, sorry can’t really talk now, gotta go, see ya!” and finally exits the apartment.  She slides down the wall, and sits for a moment, her mind a roaring mess.  What the hell had happened last night? Too much, that was the only simple answer—just too much.

***

Later that day, as she’s lounging in bed, attempting to decompress and listen to a podcast, Maka rushes in, taking no time to knock.

“Tsubaki, why didn’t you tell me!” she all but screams at her as she falls back onto Tsubaki’s bed.

“Tell you what?” Tsubaki asks.

“Don’t play dumb with me!  I assumed last night went well what with you spending the night and what not, but I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that you decided to finally fess up and read Black Star your poem! Tell me e _verything._ ”

“Maka, what the hell are you talking about? Black Star was black-out drunk, so I walked him home, helped him clean up, and then went to sleep.  Period it.  I didn’t read him the poem”, _while he was awake anyway_ , she finishes in her mind, panic beginning to rise.

“That’s not what Soul just told me.  He said that last night when you guys got back you read Black Star your poem,” Maka says, confusion beginning to light her face now.

Panic steadily rising she fumbles with her phone and calls Soul.  Thankfully, he answers on the second ring.

Before even giving him a chance to say anything, she launches in. “Soul Eater Evans, tell me everything you know about my poem and where the fuck you got the idea that it was read to Black Star last night.”

She hears him take a couple steps and close a door before responding, “Whoa, calm down Tsubaki.  I was talking with Black Star this morning after you left about what went down last night, and he said that you read him some poem or whatever and it was super sweet but he didn’t say anything else.  I don’t understand, was I not supposed to know or something?”

Poor Soul.  Someone wasn’t supposed to know, but it wasn’t him.

She sighs, “No it’s just…complicated.  You know what, just don’t worry about it. See you later.”

She hangs up, the realization fresh in her mind—Black Star was anything but asleep last night when she read her poem, and he was anything but forgetful, that much already made very clear.  That means that he slept with her, knowing how she felt, with the poem’s words still fresh in his mind.  He didn’t act like anything was off in the morning, and he certainly didn’t bring it up to her.

Maka snaps her fingers in front of Tsubaki’s face.  “Okay, now you need to tell me what actually happened, and don’t leave anything out.”

She did as much, Maka listening quietly, although a slew of emotions crossed her face.

“I’m so fucked right? Like seriously fucked,” Tsubaki says as she finishes, head dropping low to her chest in resignation.

“Are you kidding me? The universe just did you a favor!  You’re blind if you can’t see that Black Star has, and always has been, head over heels for you, so he probably thinks he’s walking on air after hearing that mushy mess you wrote about him.  What you need to do is walk over there right now, pronounce your undying love, and have the best sex of your life.”

Tsubaki coughs, choking on her own spit, “Hold on Maka, maybe that’s how you and Soul had it, but I’m not you.  I’ll see if he wants to just, casually hang out today, and then see if he brings it up, and if he doesn’t then maybe I will.  I don’t know, this is just kind of a lot to process right now.”

Maka realizes she needs some time alone and says, “Alright, you do whatever you think’s best but mark my words, this has been a long damn time coming.”

She gets out her phone and sends a text to Black Star, who responds within the minute:

Tsubaki: **Hey. You wanna study for the stats final in like an hour?**

Black Star: **Sure thing, I’ll definitely need the help lol**  

***

They’ve been idly studying for almost a half hour when Tsubaki can’t take it anymore.  The room is rife with tension, she can’t stop stealing glances at Black Star while he works, attempting to analyze every word he says, every move he makes. 

Finally, she sets down her notebook and says, doesn’t even ask, “You were awake and listening last night when I read my poem to you.”

His entire body becomes paralyzed.  Setting down his work as well, he looks up at her and says, “Yes.”  He doesn’t elaborate, or give any indication of what is supposed to come after this, so they sit in silence, staring at, then away from each other.

“I didn’t mean for you to actually hear it” she finally says.

“Why not?” he asks.  Again, simple, and serious, very unlike Black Star’s usual countenance.

“I don’t know, it was nothing.  It was just something I wrote the night before,” she says, trying to brush it off and wave it away.

He almost looks hurt at that.  “Well, for what it’s worth, it didn’t feel like ‘nothing’ to me.  It didn’t’ feel like ‘just’ to me.  Sorry if you meant it as just a joke or something, but I didn’t think it was funny.”

She startles, and protests, “No! No, that’s not what I meant at all.  I just—I mean—I didn’t not mean what I wrote, I just didn’t mean for it to be told.  To you.”

Black Star leans back, cracking his neck, “Tsu, Tsubaki.  You know I’ve had the hugest thing for you, for like years now, yeah?”

Her eyes widen to a size she didn’t even know was possible.  At that, his frown turns up slightly and he says, “So, I need you to be straight with me, for my own piece of mind.  That poem, did you mean it?  Do you really feel that way about my unworthy ass?”

This time, it’s her turn to be simple.  She stares him directly in the eyes and answers firmly, confidently, “Yes.”

Still sitting in a state of shock, she doesn’t process Black Star crawling over until he’s completely hovered over her, face close enough that she feels his breath ghost its way across her face, her mouth.

He reaches a hand out and brushes her cheek.

“Tsubaki, may I pretty please kiss you?” he asks, mouth drawing nearer.

She nods, and he presses his lips firmly against hers.  Instinct and feeling taking over, she presses back, hands going to wrap around his neck, fingers weaving their way through his hair.  He opens his mouth on a sigh, and tongues her bottom lip, gaining entry to hers as well.  She gasps as he deepens the kiss and cups her face.  For as loud and overbearing Black Star is, this kiss is careful and gentle, as if she’ll slip away from him at any moment.

They part on a pant, simply staring at each other, both reveling in the fact that this actually happened, currently still is happening.

“I love you” Black Star says.

“I know” she replies.

“No, I need to rephrase.  Tsubaki, I’m _in_ love with you.”

She simply smiles, “I know”, and reaches back down to bring his mouth to hers once again.

“I love you too, Black Star. I’m so in love with you I can’t even think straight” she whispers in between kisses.

He softly hums at her words, and makes his way down to her jaw and neck.  She breathes in his scent, thankfully having showered since last night.  He presses a kiss onto her collarbone, and she can’t help but arch up slightly against him, a gasp falling from her mouth as her hands tighten in his hair, tugging slightly.  As the slight friction registers on Black Star he lets out a groan in response, and a muttered “fuck Tsu”.  He palms one of her breasts through her shirt and she knocks her head back against the pillow, still in disbelief that this is the reality she’s living in.  Reaching her hands up, she slides them up and underneath Black Star’s t-shirt, once again feeling his muscles react to her touch, clenching, and a harsh breath being loosed from his throat.

She feels him huff into her throat, and she brings him up back to her mouth, retrieving one hand from under his shirt in order to dig it into his shoulder, leverage so she can roll up into him once more.  They swallow each other’s moans as he knocks a knee between her thighs and rolls back, pressing into her.  She tugs at his hair once again, pulling a little harder this time.

“You like it a little rough huh?” Black Star breathes with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Jesus don’t even start with that, just shut up and keep kissing me.”

“That I can do.”

Eventually Tsubaki’s shirt comes off, along with Black Star’s, and Tsubaki can’t stop running her hands all over his chest.  What she wouldn’t give to kiss every inch of it.  Suddenly, she remembers that she can, and she pushes Black Star off of her so he can lay down in place of where she was.  She climbs on top of him and begins her journey down his broad expanse.  His hand grabs a hold of her ponytail and yanks, not too hard though, just enough to elicit a slight gasp from her.  He makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat as she kisses her way down his chest, all the while rolling his hips up, punctuated by hers rolling down to meet him in the middle.  Their panting takes to new heights as she feels the tension pooling in her stomach, agitated with each and every movement, touch, kiss, and glance.

“You can’t even being to imagine how many times I’ve thought about this” Black Star murmurs, voice low as their pace becomes erratic.

“You’d be surprised,” she manages to get out, causing his eyes to widen then roll back as she grinds down particularly hard, gripping his shoulders.

She brings her face back up to eye level with his, and they bring their mouths to one another.  The noises they’re making are too frequent, and their focus too hazy to call it properly kissing, more like mouths simply rubbing against one another, with moans and gasps escaping every so often.  Black Stair takes her hair tie out, letting her black tresses fall over them, which causes his eyes to close in sheer pleasure, as she reaches down to unzip his pants.

“God, Tsu, I—fuck—I’m really about to come and we haven’t even taken all of our clothes off yet, I feel like I’m fifteen again,” he says, thumbs digging into her hips.

She opens her mouth to relay that she isn’t faring any better, and to glide a hand down his body when a voice floats out from the hallway.

“Hey I’m running to the store real quick, do you guys want anything?  I can check and see if they have that ice cream you— ” Soul beings, but does not finish, because as he barges into Black Star’s room, sees the scene that has unfolded unbeknownst to him, Tsubaki’s hands grazing the waistband of Black Star’s boxers, he promptly becomes mute.

Tsubaki scrambles off of Black Star, who is not nearly as fumbled as he should be in this situation, looking angrier than anything. Soul says, “Holy fuck. This is rich, Maka’s going to lose her shit.  Anyway, my bad, catch you guys later!” and promptly pivots, leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Black Star and Tsubaki sit in stunned silence, then she flops down onto his chest, and feels it vibrate as he begins to do the only thing they can do in this situation—laugh.  She can’t help but join along.  Tsubaki hasn’t even been here for more than an hour and everything’s already a mess—but her mess, after all these years, it’s her mess.

  


 

**Author's Note:**

> There we have it folks! Hopefully my attempt at smut wasn't too cringey, I tried lol and the dialogue didn't feel too weird or off-putting, writing conversations has always been rough for me. Also I'm well aware I used the word "muscles" an obnoxious number of times, but I don't think Black Star would be bothered all that much. Thank you so much for reading and hopefully you enjoyed (-:


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